The Shining City
by ThereBeDragons17
Summary: A short piece on how the Doctor got his TARDIS back on Gallifrey.


The citadel of the Time Lords sat between the mountains of Solitude and Solace, encased in its ball of glass that glowed gold in the rising of the first sun. The buildings inside the ball, like a snow globe lacking the snow, were just waking up under the burning orange sky. Time Lords and Ladies peered out if their houses and businesses opened their doors. The sky was clear, the suns bright, and at first glance nothing seemed amiss in this beautiful place of red, orange and gold.

It was a nearby field that showed the signs of the ended armistice. A statue lay in ruins. Once it had paid tribute to the peace between the Time Lords and the Daleks; now it represented the end of that truce. The Time Lords of the Shining City were not currently at war with the Daleks, though hostilities grew. And grew. And grew.

But the young Time Lord neither knew nor cared. Oh, he would, eventually, get wrapped up in this coming war; he would march, he would fight, and he would kill. But the looks of the 293 year old, an early teen by Time Lord standards, alluded nothing to his dark future. He was doing what teen aged boys do; being an idiot. In a public place. In this particular case, it was in a museum of Time Travel History. This Lord had not regenerated once. His hair was dark and unkempt, his eyes too bright and mischievous for his own good, and he was wearing red and gold schooling robes. He had four friends with him, all looking similar, and acting in a parallel manner, not looking, not caring, until...

...He was almost hit by a hoverlift. His friend pulled him out of the way just in time, and as he was staggering sideways, being dragged by the collar of his robes, something blue in the back of the lift caught his eye. He liked blue. A wonderful color, blue, and this thing was the bestest, deepest shade, he thought. But the object was covered by a tarp.

The Lord driving the lift got down while the Lady leading the group yelled angrily and made him apologize to the driver. But before he could get back into his lift, the young Time Lord called out, "What've you got in the lift?"

The Lord seemed surprised but answered, "Type 40 TARDIS. Broken, going to storage. Normally we'd just chuck 'er but we haven't got any others. She'll sit down in the basement, no harm done."

"I thought they were sentient," the younger Lord asked. "Wouldn't it mind?"

"I don't know about sentient," the lift driver muttered. "Clever enough to avoid crashing into an asteroid, maybe. Not much more, though. This ones dead, or doesn't mind. If she can communicate she hasn't. And if she can't, well... She probably died, without any of her sisters left."

The hoverlift went one way, the school group went another, but the young Time Lord kept his mind on that TARDIS, wanting to see it one more time. He was a diligent student, if not the most interested, and extraordinarily bright, but never had anything interested him as much a that TARDIS had. The minute he had glanced at it, he had known that it WAS alive, and not at all happy about its destination. And he felt sorry for it. A TARDIS was meant to fly, no matter how broken, to explore and... Go places.

He resolved to coming back.

* * *

><p>Borrow.<p>

A promise so easily and temptingly broken. Borrowing. The act of taking and then returning.

Other verbs described the situation better, of course; sneaking, breaking-and-entering, stealing. No, borrowing. He would return that type 40 TARDIS. He wouldn't even take it out of the storage bay. Assuming he could find it. And wasn't caught. He couldn't explain his need to return; he just had it.

The museum storage area was chock full of random things; time machines, wax statues, plaques, stuff covered in tarps... But only one thing that looked like a type 40 TARDIS. He would know. He had studied them in class. With a flourish he pulled off the tarp.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

He meant it. This young Time Lord was captivated by this antique machine. A blue box, with a light on top, and the words 'POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX' written on each side. There was a lock on the door and suddenly he realized he didn't have the key, but as he lay his hand on the smooth blue wood the door swung inward.

The Time Lord was not surprised by the fact that the box was about 100 times bigger on the inside; he was stunned by the look of the interior. It had fallen into disrepair, wired and metal beams lying around, and he exclaimed loudly, "Oh NO."

Lights flickered on inside and an engine thrummed to life with a soothing pulse all on its own. The Time Lord stood completely still, listening.

The door slammed and he jumped. But before he could do anything he felt a telepathic pull, not unlike those of other Time Lords, but subtly different. It seemed to be coming from all around him, analyzing him, looking at him, and deciding that it liked him. This TARDIS, he realized, could not be more alive; but it had been neglected and ignored. It wanted to go, to move to the stars and beyond them, to fly again; and suddenly, the young Time Lord realized that he did, too.

They made a very good pair.

The Time Lord only vaguely knew how to fly a TARDIS as old as this, but he knew the Laws of Space and Time, and what he wasn't familiar with or had forgotten the TARDIS told him. It sent pulses as a way of speaking, distinguishing switches and buttons and levers and soon, with a wheezing and groaning, the Time Lord had it flying through the stars again.

And they kept flying for millennia.


End file.
